She's The Light
by autumn midnights
Summary: Somebody's killed Morag's fiancé, Terry Boot. When Auror Romilda Vane is assigned to the case, they don't expect an unlikely friendship to form. But taking top priority is the question of who killed Terry, and why? Femslash. Warning, language/violence.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Also, this fic is for the 'One Line Competition 2' on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum, where we were given the line 'The locked door fascinated and puzzled her' and made to use it as the first line in a oneshot.

Author's Note: Morag MacDougal is a canon character. She's a Ravenclaw in Harry's year. Oh, and this story takes place in the summer of 2003, five years after the war ended.

* * *

The locked door fascinated and puzzled her. Their bedroom door was never locked; there was no point in storming in and locking the door if one of them was angry, since it would be so easy for the other one to open it. Although she was hungry from four hours of uninterrupted Auror work, Morag knew that she should check this out first, and just make sure that everything was all right. She pulled out her wand, tapping it on the door and muttering, "Alohomora" out of habit. She quickly found that there were also protective charms over it, and it took her nearly twenty minutes before she was able to remove them all. Turning the knob, she stepped inside.

On her first glance, she didn't see anything, but it only took a couple seconds before she noticed the figure laying on the ground. "Terry," she gasped, rushing over and placing a hand on his chest. It was obvious that he was dead, and no amount of frantic pulse-feeling would change that. His eyes were open but blank, staring up at the ceiling. His limbs, although not broken, were positioned such that Morag knew he had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse prior to his death. Most likely, the person had removed the curse and killed him so quickly that there was no time to sit up or anything of the sort.

Morag trembled; from fear, sadness, or fury she wasn't quite sure. Her emotions were a jumbled mess as she thoroughly searched the room to make sure the murderer wasn't hiding before throwing herself down onto the bed. How could this happen? The Second Wizarding War was done; there was no reason why there should still be all this terror. Hadn't she had enough problems her seventh year at Hogwarts? And, pray tell, what did Terry do to deserve this? He had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, but not for a very long time. He had been knocked unconscious with a blow to the head before he could do any real damage.

She walked over to the fireplace and threw Floo powder down more furiously than usual; the green flames roared up. She stuck her head in, calling, "Ministry of Magic, Auror Department," and felt a slightly uncomfortable situation as her head spun through the fireplaces. In less than fifteen seconds, however, she was facing into the office of the Head of the Auror Department, Gawain Robards. He was older, perhaps fifty or so, but still in good shape and a more-than-capable Auror. He was lounging at his desk, paperwork spread out before him, but he didn't look too thrilled at having to do it. "Sir?" Morag called out, and he calmly looked over toward the fireplace.

"Auror MacDougal. What is it?"

"I need...I need to report a murder."

"Where?"

"My house, sir." The man gaped at her, and she quickly explained. "I just got home and my fiancé is laying dead on my bedroom floor." She fought back tears at the thought of Terry being dead. Never again would she talk with him, joke with him, kiss him, make love with him...they'd never be married. They had just gotten engaged eight days ago, and up until this day, they had both been in a state of euphoria. "Please," she said quietly. "Send people over here. I don't want to come over - I'm afraid that if I do, somebody will come in and remove the body, and make it look like I am lying."

"Smart," Robards said. "People should be over in just a couple minutes. Stay put, but be careful. We don't know anything yet. You checked the bedroom, right?"

"Of course." She nodded, which, on second thought, probably looked very awkward considering right now, she was just a head surrounded by flames. "Tell them I'll be upstairs. It's the first door."

"All right." She withdrew her head from the fireplace, jerking herself back to their room. Terry was still laying on the floor; she hadn't interfered with the scene at all. She stood up and walked over to their bed, perching on the edge of it. She couldn't understand why anybody would do this to him. Yes, he had been a part of Dumbledore's Army both times that it had existed, but he hadn't ever hurt anybody because of it. As she had thought before, he hadn't lasted long enough in the Battle of Hogwarts even to take down one person.

It came to her in a flash. He hadn't fought in the Battle for very long...but she had. She had been one of the people who lasted throughout the whole thing. She had dueled multiple Death Eaters - not at once, of course, but over the course of the whole thing - and killed some of them. The Carrows had taught many Dark spells while they were teachers, and she had used some of them more than once. She wasn't sure how many Death Eaters she had defeated...maybe four killed, and many more knocked unconscious. Certainly enough for somebody to want revenge on her, and what was a better way to do that then to kill the person she was closest to?

She couldn't be sure quite yet; there wasn't any evidence for her theory. But she knew that it made sense, and was definitely a logical possibility. After all, there were only so many reasons to murder somebody, and since she couldn't think of anything that Terry could have done, it was probably to get back at her.

A knock at the front door interrupted her musings. "Come on in!" she yelled, not willing to leave the room. It hurt to see Terry this way, but it would be even worse if somebody sneaked in and removed his body while she was downstairs. Then the murderer would never be brought to justice, and she would be thought of as a liar. She heard the Aurors - four or five of them, judging by the footsteps - enter and climb up the stairs, coming into the room.

She didn't recognize anybody personally. There had been an influx of Aurors once the Second Wizarding War ended; anybody who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts was eligible to become an Auror, not to mention anybody who submitted a decent application was allowed. The standards were lowered greatly, as so many of the pre-end-of-war people had died, been injured, or left the country, and they needed more. So many people joined, wanting to send the Death Eaters to Azkaban and prevent anything like that from ever happening again. As a result of that, there were so many that it was just impossible for somebody to know every single Auror, and Morag didn't know these five.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Rose Zeller," answered a girl who looked barely out of her teens, wearing a trainee badge on her robes. Morag quickly noticed that two others were also wearing trainee badges; only two of the Aurors were full-fledged. The other two trainees were introduced as Stewart Ackerley and Euan Abercrombie, while the official Aurors were Romilda Vane and Katie Bell, who Morag vaguely remembered as having been a Chaser on the Gryffindor team. All of them were young; the three trainees were probably eighteen or nineteen. Romilda was maybe twenty, and Katie was a year or so older than Morag herself. That was the case now, though, with most of the Auror Office; there were many more young people.

"All right," Katie said. She seemed to be in charge, perhaps as the oldest. "Ackerley, Abercrombie, you're with me. We're going to look at the body and try to figure out exactly what happened. Zeller, Vane, please take her in the other room and question her." They promptly followed orders, the two boys heading over to the floor where Terry lay, while Morag followed Rose and Romilda out of the room.

They headed downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Morag sat across from the other two, which made her feel as if she was a suspect being interrogated, but she knew that she wasn't. Had they actually suspected her, she would have been brought to the Auror Office and been interrogated in one of their actual questioning rooms, not in her own kitchen. This was simply to get an idea of what might have happened to him, and what everything had been like recently. She knew the routine; she had done this to others more than once. Rose pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, which she held poised above the paper. Romilda glanced across the table. "Please state your full name for the record."

"Morag Alyssa MacDougal."

"Thank you. Now, please tell me what happened, and how you found the body."

"I went to work - I'm an Auror as well - at ten o'clock this morning. I returned just a couple of minutes after two, and I headed upstairs. The door was locked, which I found weird, because neither of us ever lock the door. So I unlocked it and went inside, and t-there he was," she stammered, trying to erase the mental picture of dead Terry from her mind. "Laying on the floor, looking like he had just been Cruciated. So I checked for his pulse, although it was kind of obvious that he wasn't...alive...and I made sure nobody was still in the room. Then I Floo-called the Auror Office and told them."

Romilda nodded. It was obvious that she had more to say, but the trainee was still writing that down. She was the opposite of Morag in looks. While Morag was willowy, with chestnut hair and pale skin, the other woman wasn't very tall, but she was certainly curvy, and had jet-black hair and olive skin. She was actually pretty, and Morag found her eyes drawn to the younger Auror more than once. "All right," she said when Rose had finally finished. "Had he been acting differently than usual prior to today?"

"We were happier than usual," she answered, her voice quiet. "Terry proposed to me eight days ago, and I accepted. So we were excited, certainly, but that was the only change that I noticed." She twisted the ring on her finger, wondering what to do with it. She wasn't engaged anymore, after all, but it would feel disrespectful to shove it in the back of a drawer and never see it again. Perhaps she could put it on a chain around her neck; then she'd still be wearing it, but in a different way.

"Okay. May I ask what his full name was?"

"Terry Alexander Boot."

"What was his occupation?"

"He worked at the _Daily Prophet, _but he wasn't a reporter. He was an assistant editor."

"Did he have any enemies that you could think of? Or did he do anything that could have perhaps earned him enemies?"

She shook her head. "I mean, he was in Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts, both times, but he didn't do anything that harmed anybody. He fought at the Battle of Hogwarts, but only for about ten or fifteen minutes. He was knocked unconscious quickly. But I was thinking...it might be to get back at me," she added, once again quietly. Romilda's head shot up, promptly making eye contact.

"Continue."

"I fought at the Battle of Hogwarts, the whole time. I defeated multiple Death Eaters."

"Did you kill any?" Romilda asked. "Revenge is a common theme in murder - why am I telling you this?" She laughed self-consciously. "Of course you'd know, you're an Auror as well."

"It's okay," Morag appeased her. "Anyway, I...yes, I killed four people on their side," she admitted. It wasn't something she liked to tell people; she wasn't particularly proud of what she had done. She had been so worried for a few days after the Battle that she would be thrown into Azkaban for her use of Dark magic, not to mention feeling guilty over it. She certainly wasn't the only person on their side who had killed Death Eaters instead of knocking them out, but it was still something that she didn't enjoy discussing.

"Do you know who?"

"No, I don't." It had been her first encounter with Death Eaters apart from the Carrows and Snape, and she hadn't been able to recognize too many of them. She had only recognized one person, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Morag had dove down a corridor and ran in the opposite direction to avoid fighting that particular Death Eater. "One of them was older, the other three were maybe forty or so."

Rose made a note of that, and Romilda gestured for the trainee to put the piece of paper away. "Thank you for your time," she said professionally. "I may ask you to come down to the Auror Office at some point; if I get photographs of some Death Eaters, I may want you to try and identify the ones that you killed. That way we might try and find family members of these people who may have wanted revenge for what you did."

"That's fine." Morag heard the other three coming downstairs, and she stood up. "Thank you for coming here."

"No problem," Romilda said. "Oh, and we certainly won't keep you in the dark about this. You'll be a part of this investigation - not officially, but considering we're already going to need you to identify the Death Eaters if you can, and you're so closely tied to the victim, then we'll keep you updated on what is going on."

"Good," she answered, her voice quiet. She wanted to know what was going on. She wanted to know who had did this to Terry, her Terry, the person that she had dated for nearly five years. The person would pay for what they had done, there was no question of that; after all, just by looking at the body, it was obvious that the person had performed two Unforgivable Curses, which would send them to Azkaban for life. The only problem was finding the murderer, and once they did that, everything would be better. Not perfect, but better.

The Aurors, all five of them, left the house, bringing the dead body of her fiancé with them. She headed upstairs, completely unsure what to do now. It felt so weird; she couldn't think straight. She had dated Terry for almost five years; it was a long time. They had started out as two lost, grieving souls thrown together for comfort, just like many postwar couples, but it had blossomed into more than that. She was sure she truly loved him. He was different than the other people that she had dated or kissed in Hogwarts.

He was different than Michael, who she had dated for a short time in fourth year. He was different than Wayne, who had been fifth year's boyfriend. He was certainly better than Justin, who she was with for all of sixth year because she couldn't think of a nice way to break it off. Then there had been Padma, who she had experimented with briefly in seventh year before they had mutually decided that Carrow-run Hogwarts was not the place for a relationship. But Terry was different, and now, the one person that she had actually loved was gone.

She threw herself down on the bed, the tears finally pouring down her face. She cried for Terry, whose life had been ripped away from him so young, and for herself, having the person she loved now dead. It was the most tragic thing that she could imagine, and she had no idea what she would do now. She certainly wasn't popular; although her roommates and her had been friendly while at Hogwarts, that had changed. Padma rarely hung out with anybody who hadn't been in the D.A. Lisa had fled the country in the summer of '97 and never returned. Su had died at the Battle of Hogwarts, and Mandy was permanently in St. Mungo's. Morag didn't have anybody. There was nobody to console her over the death of the person she had loved, and for that, she cried even harder.

* * *

It was nice being an Auror. There was so much to do, there was no time to sit and think about how just a couple of days ago, her fiancé had died. She wasn't working on a specific case at the moment, but there was still a lot of paperwork to do, and minor infractions of the law that weren't considered cases, as there was nothing to solve. She hurried around, a stack of parchment in her arms, nicely labeled at the top as to where it went. It was busywork, and technically she could have ordered a trainee to do it, but since she was going to be there for an eight-hour shift, she didn't want to get stuck not having anything to do.

That had been her strategy recently. Keep herself completely busy so that she didn't have time to think about anything but what she was doing at that moment and what she would be doing next. She had taken on much more time at the Auror Office, and usually by the time she got home, she was too exhausted to do anything but make dinner and fall asleep.

She was hurrying, not really looking where she was going, when she collided with somebody. "Shit," she gasped as her stack tumbled to the ground, only a few pieces remaining in her hands. She glanced up to see who she had rammed into; it was the young Auror working on Terry's case. Romilda.

"Let me help," Romilda said, kneeling down with Morag and helping the other woman collect the papers. "These didn't have to be in order, right?"

"No. Thankfully." They reached for the same piece and their hands touched; there was a slight tingle, but Morag ignored it and grabbed a different piece, stuffing it into the high pile.

"Can you even carry that?" the younger woman asked doubtfully, looking at the stack. Not even waiting for an answer, she finished cleaning the parchment and helped Morag lift it. "Anyway, I need you in my office. I was hoping you could look at photographs of Death Eaters and their affiliates, and we can see who you killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. I have photographs of all the people on their side who were killed, and it would be nice if you could come identify the four."

"Fine." Morag hailed a passing trainee. "Deliver these parchments to the right people, please," she said, transferring the stack to the trainee's waiting arms. She barely noticed how the young man nearly toppled under the stack, but instead hurried after Romilda, who had already started heading to her cubicle. She remembered the Death Eaters' faces even five years later; she remembered their shocked expressions as they had fallen under her curse, amazed that an eighteen-year-old Ravenclaw could defeat them. It wouldn't be that difficult to identify them.

There was a few dozen photographs in Romilda's cubicle, stacked neatly in a little pile on the desk. Morag sat across from her and reached for the first photograph, discarding it almost instantly. She found the four that she had killed relatively quickly, and passed it across to the younger Auror. "These," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "That's them."

"Hmm. Nott, Jugson, Selwyn, and Travers." She glanced up from the photographs, looking across the table at Morag. "Impressive. And you're sure that these are the four people that you killed at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Yes." Their faces still ran through her mind occasionally, although it had been much worse directly following the Battle. "So I'm guessing now you're going to search for their family members and see if there's anybody who had the motive and opportunity to get revenge?"

Romilda nodded. "Exactly. Considering how many pureblood families are interrelated, that could be a lot of people, but we'll start off by looking at immediate family first - parents, children, sisters, and brothers - because they're the ones most likely to care about getting revenge."

"Do you know, by any chance, why the person might have waited so long? It's been five years since the Battle." Morag had run through many possibilities in her head, but hadn't been able to come up with a sensible reason why somebody would have decided to get revenge five years after the actual situation they were getting revenge for had happened.

"A few things. They could have waited to lull you into a false sense of security, so that you would think everything was peaceful. They could have been waiting to see if Terry really did mean something to you, and once you two were engaged, he or she officially started making plans. They could have been waiting until five years passed, for dramatic effect - like 'oh, he was killed just a month after the five-year anniversary'. We won't know for sure, though, until we find the person who did it." She tucked the photographs in her pocket and stood up. "I'll make sure to contact you if there's any new developments."

"Thanks." Morag stood up as well. "I'll see you later."

"All right." They both left the cubicle, although they headed in different directions. Morag headed back to her own area, and heavily sat down in her own chair, leaning back and putting her feet up on the desk. She wished that she hadn't given the trainee all the parchments; now she didn't have anything to do at this particular time. She was sure there would be something soon - there always was - but right then and there, she was bored, and that wasn't good. She cleaned her desk, trying to keep herself busy, but even that didn't last long.

She got up and walked around for a bit, unsure of what to do, hoping that one of the senior Aurors would notice her walking by and give her something to get done. Nobody did, though, and she was on her second circuit around when she saw Romilda heading toward her. "Hey," the younger Auror called. "Are you taking a break?"

"I don't have anything to do," she responded as they came closer. "So I was just walking around."

"Well, take your break now. I know this lovely little cafe in Muggle London, and I've been dying to try it out, but I'd look pathetic going alone. Come with me." She looked so eager and earnest that Morag acquiesced, nodding.

"Fine. I'll go with you." They checked out of the Auror Office and left the Ministry of Magic. Morag was rarely in Muggle London, at least for fun; the few times she had been, it was usually passing through or doing something Auror-related. She was a pureblood, and, although her family wasn't as traditional and purist as families like the Malfoys, they certainly hadn't gone for family trips into Muggle areas, either. Not that they had done many family things in general...her family had been quite detached and boring, her parents too wrapped up in work, her younger sister a Squib. It certainly wasn't a normal home life, and she had been glad to get out.

She forced her thoughts away from that - it wouldn't do to dwell on her shitty childhood any more than it would do to dwell on Terry. She made herself concentrate on Romilda as they walked to the cafe and sat down at a small table inside, across from one another. It was a nice place, sparsely but classily decorated, certainly not like Madam Puddifoot's, a pathetic Valentine's Day cafe in Hogsmeade where both Wayne and Justin had insisted on bringing her. She was just about to say something along the lines of 'oh, this is nice' when Romilda suddenly spoke. "Isn't this a nice little place?"

"Yeah, it is. How did you find it?"

"I took a walk around out here once, looked in, and thought it was cool. But I couldn't go alone." She said the last part as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Anyway, I have to ask your opinion on something extremely important." She paused for dramatic effect.

"What?" Morag asked.

"Didn't Dolores Umbridge greatly resemble a toad stuffed into a pink dress?"

Morag burst out laughing for the first time in three days. It was really true, she knew, having made the comparison of Umbridge=Toad multiple times during her own fifth year. She hadn't ever been able to discuss that with anybody; she never dared say things like that around the school, in case it got back to a professor somehow. She was one of the few students who had managed to avoid detention with Umbridge's Blood Quill that year, something she was rather proud of. Of course, she had certainly made up for it with the amount of times she got in trouble with the Carrows two years later, but that was beside the point. "Yes, she did," Morag choked out between giggles.

"And Severus Snape, when he had on those black robes and long black cloak, resembled a dungeon bat?"

Her laughter intensified. This was just as true. It felt good to laugh again. "Yeah," she gasped, clutching her side and finally getting her breathing back to normal. "Merlin, Romilda," she half-laughed, half-choked out, grinning. "Do you usually go around comparing former Hogwarts teachers to animals?"

Romilda pretended to take a bow in her seat. "Why yes, yes I do, thank you very much. It's a secret hobby of mine," she joked. "Oh, and you know what else I've thought? The Carrows, Umbridge, and Filch should all get together for a meeting of the SAH."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"SAH. Sadist Adults at Hogwarts." Romilda smirked as the older Auror giggled. "And didn't you think that the Carrows were, er, a little too close for siblings?"

"Ew!" Morag laughed, crinkling her face up into a disgusted expression. "Thanks for the scarring mental images. But yeah, I thought so too! One time I was out after curfew, and I caught them leaving an empty classroom together...and nothing else was in the classroom. I'm guessing they weren't exactly having tea in there."

"Oh, and you complain about me scarring your mind?" The younger woman pulled a face. "Carrow sex. Gross."

"You brought it up."

Suddenly a waiter came over, a piece of paper and pen in his hand. "Sorry about the wait, ladies."

"It's all right," Romilda said, looking at the menu for the first time. They sobered up enough to order, but once the waiter was out of earshot they promptly began making fun of people from Hogwarts again, laughing at the things each other said. For the first time since Terry's death, Morag was beginning to think there was a light at the end of the tunnel - and that light came in the form of a new female Auror named Romilda Vane.

* * *

Time passed. Life went on, as it always does. Morag still missed Terry, but as the days passed things got easier. She wasn't alone anymore; although she didn't have her family or her roommates or the D.A., she had one person who meant more than all those other people would. That one person was Romilda, and the two Aurors were getting together almost every day at that point. It was difficult, with both their schedules, but they managed it, and they always found time for one another.

About two months had passed since Terry's death. Romilda and Katie, the main Aurors on the case, had compiled a comprehensive list of suspects, all of whom were related to one of the four Death Eaters that Morag had killed. It was the only possible link at the moment, as nobody could come up with any other enemies Terry might have had. He had been a nice, friendly person, and none of his roommates or other friends could have imagined why anybody would want to kill him. The only option they could think of was revenge for Morag's kills at the Battle, and so they were pursuing this lead.

It was more difficult than it sounded, however. They had to track down the people, most of whom did not want to be found and weren't particularly friendly. There were only a couple of people who had been crossed off the list for good - one who had been on a vacation cruise in the United States, and the other who had been giving birth on the exact date of Terry's murder. There were many people left, and it was beginning to look like the case would never be solved.

"Nothing new, huh?" Morag guessed as Romilda came through the door, looking tired.

"No. Unfortunately. I talked to Iris Jugson today, but her response to every single one of my questions was, 'You can't effing question me without my effing lawyer present, get the eff out of here'...quite annoying, really." She sighed. "This is the problem with being an Auror. Suspects suck."

"That they do." It was always difficult, working with unhelpful people. Although some people, Morag knew, were helpful and answered all the questions in the hopes of getting off more lightly if they did do it, and if they didn't, to avoid interfering with an investigation. Others, though, were hostile, and although the Aurors had some methods like Veritaserum they could use, it was only allowed if they had evidence against the person. Not if they were questioning people it might have been.

"Ugh." The younger woman stuck her head into Morag's refrigerator and rummaged around. She pulled back barely ten seconds later. "Merlin, woman, do you go shopping?" She held up a piece of cheese that was covered in mold. "When's this from, 2000?"

"I eat out a lot. You know that." She wasn't a particularly good cook, although she could manage simple things. It was easier just to eat out or grab a quick snack at the Auror Office; they usually had a table full of food for those people pulling twelve-hour shifts, and Morag usually sneaked something from there. She ate out with Romilda a lot as well, and they had returned to the cafe multiple times over the past two months. "Throw that out, will you?"

"Sure." Romilda tossed the cheese, a neat arc heading directly into the wastebasket. "Listen, you mind staying alone here for a bit? I was thinking that I could pick up some things at the store, and I could cook us a meal."

"You can cook? Or rather, you can shop?" The idea of Romilda in a Muggle store, dealing with Muggle money, was slightly frightening. Romilda was just as pureblooded as Morag, but the latter had spent much more time in the Muggle world, having run off on her own for a short while in the summer right after the war.

"Yes, I can." The younger Auror stuck her tongue out. "I'll be back in a half hour. Don't go anywhere."

"I don't have anywhere to go!" It was true. For once, the Ministry didn't need her that day, and she actually had a day off. She had spent most of the day freshening up the house - although she had skipped the refrigerator, for obvious reasons - before heading to Madam Malkin's and buying herself a new set of robes. They were a purple so dark it was almost black, and clung to her slim figure, flattering it. She was almost glad that Romilda was leaving for a bit; it would give her a chance to change into the new robes so she could show them off when the other woman returned. "Promise, I'll be here."

"All right." Romilda stripped off her Auror uniform; she had been wearing a Muggle tank top and pair of shorts underneath. She tossed the uniform on one of the chairs at the table and waved, walking out the door. The faint pop of Apparition could be heard a few seconds later. Waiting a couple minutes, just to make sure that the other Auror had left for good, Morag finally headed upstairs.

She was quietly singing, thinking of the conversation the two had just a couple of days prior. They had been talking about clothes, and how Morag rarely dressed up in anything that made her look good. It was really true; she had never been much of a girly-girl and preferred to wear practical things. She definitely wanted to show Romilda her new sexy robes, and this was the perfect opportunity. She slipped into her bedroom, jumping in shock. There was a man sitting on her bed. "Who are you?" she asked, drawing her wand but not attacking.

The man, who looked to be about her age, smirked slightly. "Why, I would have thought a smart little Auror like you would have figured it out by now. In the Battle of Hogwarts, you killed my father. A rather callous thing to do, considering that we spent seven years at Hogwarts together...you were in some of my classes. You partnered up with me in Herbology twice in third year."

"Nott?" she gasped. "You're Theodore Nott?" He looked different. As a Hogwarts student he had been a skinny, quiet, stringy-haired Slytherin who never said too much. He had filled out, and looked much more powerful than he had then, although she knew that he had always got good marks in practical magic. He had his wand out as well, and was playing with it between his fingers. "You...you killed Terry."

"Yes I did, dear Morag." The words twisted in his mouth. "I was waiting for the right time. I wanted to make sure that Boot meant something to you, that you would feel his loss as keenly as I felt the loss of my father. I waited until you two had gotten engaged. I heard about it, of course. I have been watching you for five years, but I've been subtle, more subtle than even somebody like you could notice. As soon as you two had become engaged I planned it; I waited until you had left the house and would be gone for a while. Then I sneaked in. Took me the better part of an hour and a half to undo those protective charms you placed around here. It took me that long this time as well, but it'll be worth it."

"What are you talking about?" she snapped. "I'm turning you in, Nott. You're going to Azkaban for life. You Cruciated and killed somebody." She was tempted to say 'who never did anything to you', but left that off. Nott could make the same argument against her, since she had killed four Death Eaters who hadn't done anything against her personally.

"Not just one somebody. It'll be two by the time I'm done." He lunged, but her Shield Charm, cast nonverbally as soon as she had entered the room, blocked him. He crashed into it and she darted out into the upstairs hallway, firing whatever spells she could think of around the shield. It was awkward aiming, since she had to avoid hitting her own Shield Charm, but it provided her with some degree of protection. She noticed that all of his spells were not intended to kill; he probably wanted to kill her while she was helpless, not while dueling her.

A purple burst of light struck the Shield Charm, disintegrating it. There wasn't enough time to put up a new one; she was much too busy blocking his attacks and countering them with some of her own. They were both skilled duelists, and Morag suspected that he had certainly practiced for this while planning how to get revenge; surely he had, since nobody was this talented without practiced. She backed him up down the stairs, hoping he would fall backwards, preferably over the rickety banister that needed to be fixed, but no such luck. They stayed there on the stairs, when suddenly, he shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

It seemed to be meant to surprise her, since it was badly-aimed, but it was still too close for comfort. In the split second as the spell rushed toward her, Morag ducked and threw herself out of the way, intending to hit the banister and pop back up. It was much more rickety than she had originally thought, however; the force of her full weight slamming against it caused part of it to deteriorate, and she fell through onto the floor below, her back hitting it first.

She automatically knew nothing was broken, but the breath had been knocked out of her. She struggled up but not fast enough; Nott's Expelliarmus caused her wand to go flying over to him. She pushed herself up and ran for the door, but he caught up with her and yanked her back, slamming her against the wall. "You aren't going anywhere," he hissed, spittle flying into her face. "I'm not done with you - and I won't be, until you're dead. I decided that Boot's death wasn't enough - that you should pay for what you did in more than just grief."

She brought her knee up, intending to hit him where it hurts, but he twisted out of the way. She swore, struggling more, but as strong as she was, Theodore Nott still had more weight and muscle on him. "Fuck you," she spat, ignoring the pain in her back from hitting the floor and being slammed against a wall. "Go to hell, Nott. Or wait - should I say go to Azkaban? Because that's where you will be."

"So threatening." He rolled his eyes. "I'm so scared of a wandless, hundred-and-thirty pound twenty-three-year-old girl. Wow, you're frightening." He twisted her around and shoved her down on the ground, and before she could get up and run toward the door, he hissed, "Crucio!"

The pain struck her just as it had so many times during seventh year; she had thought, after the Battle, that she would be free from that particular Unforgivable now that the Death Eaters had been defeated. It was indescribable, like white-hot knives piercing her body, which also felt like she had been thrown into the midst of an inferno. She screamed, hoping somehow that somebody would hear her, but she knew that was impossible - that was the problem with living in the middle of nowhere.

He didn't hold it for very long before pausing, giving himself a break. She forced herself to get up - not an easy task - and lunged at him, but he simply stepped aside. "Did you really think you could defeat me? Wandless, without a weapon?" He barked a harsh laugh, a sound which grated on Morag's ears, and shot another spell at her. She managed to dodge it, mainly by performing an awkward move somewhere between a fall and a roll. She wasn't able to dodge the next curse, though, and it struck her squarely in the back, causing her again to writhe under the Cruciatus Curse, screaming in pain.

When he finished it he yanked her to her feet, pinning her against the wall again. "You know about the Longbottoms, don't you? They just died...it was all over the papers. But they had been in St. Mungo's because they were insane. Insane, driven out of their minds, from way too much exposure to that particular curse. I'm trying to decide whether I should drive you mad or kill you...perhaps I'll do both." His smile was sadistic and dark, reminding Morag way too much of the Carrows. She hadn't fought back against them in detention; there was no way she could have without getting herself even more in trouble. But here, well, he was going to destroy her life anyway. Might as well make it difficult on him.

With all her might she whipped her forehead forward, slamming it into Nott's nose. He swore and recoiled as blood dripped from his nose. "You little bitch!" He instantly brought his wand up to mend his face. Taking advantage of the distraction, Morag rushed passed him and to the door, fumbling. She had locked it before, just to be safe as a precaution against Muggle robbers, but it was also coming back to haunt her as she fidgeted with it, slower than usual thanks to the minutes under the curse. Just as she got it open a spell knocked her backwards across the room, throwing her against a bookcase, which rained down books all over her.

She pushed her way out of the pile, silently praising her decision to have the actual bookcase nailed to the wall, as that would have caused much more damage. As it was, the books had bruised her up a little and one of the hardcovers had left a scratch that didn't break the skin, but she had sustained worse injuries. She reached for Nott's back pocket, where her own wand was presently being stored, but he shoved her hand away roughly, rubbing his nose - which had stopped bleeding, but still looked painful - with the other hand. "Just for that, I'm going to Cruciate you until you beg for mercy and ask me to kill you," he growled. With his screwed-up nose, he looked even more threatening. He advanced, and Morag dodged, hearing something outside.

"Help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Help me!" He clamped a hand over her mouth before thinking better of it.

"Silencio." Now her mouth moved, but nothing came out thanks to his spell. He placed the Cruciatus Curse on her again, causing her to fall to the ground, silently screaming in pain as it ravaged through her whole body. It was for an even longer time, and she was sure that she was about to go mad. She had no idea how long it took for somebody's mental state to be affected by the curse; it wasn't exactly the sort of thing that anybody knew, since there were so few documented cases. The people who had been placed under it were in no fit state to answer questions, and those who had performed it were hostile. "It's too bad I had to silence you," Nott murmured, just loud enough for her to hear it. "I quite like hearing your screams."

Even through the curse she managed to flip him the bird, which took almost all of her concentration. She knew she was getting weaker, although her mind wasn't damaged yet; she could feel the effects it had on her body already. She was exhausted, tired, in agony..she just wanted it all to end.

The door slammed open, and through squinted eyes she saw four Stunning Spells hit Nott directly in the chest, knocking him backwards. The curse ended automatically, since he wasn't there to focus on it, and Morag moved a weary head so she could see who it was. Romilda and Katie stood there, two other Aurors behind them. "Thanks," Morag muttered, probably sounding completely pathetic. "I -"

"Shush." Romilda crossed the room and crouched down. "You need to rest."

"'Kay."

* * *

"Morag."

"Morag!"

"Morag Alyssa MacDougal..."

"I'm not five," the witch in question muttered. "The full name doesn't have as much effect as it used to." She opened her eyes a fraction of an inch. She was in a bed somewhere...was this St. Mungo's? She wasn't really sure. Romilda was there, and that was the only reason that she sat upright. "Merlin, Romilda, I don't know how to thank you! If you hadn't come..." She let the sentence trail off.

"I know. Don't worry about it. It's what friends do, right?" The younger witch fidgeted slightly on the uncomfortable chair she was sitting on. "Are you all right? I saw Nott's memories of the whole thing - we put them in a Pensieve to check it out, since he wouldn't cooperate - and you were Cruciated for a while. You've slept almost a whole day, you know."

"Merlin!" Morag pushed the covers back. "A day? Come on, I never slept that much after the Carrows!"

"The Carrows didn't push you through a banister and into a bookcase," Romilda pointed out. "Stay there. The Healer specifically told me that I wasn't to allow you out of bed."

"Madam Pomfrey never -"

"What happened in your seventh year has nothing to do with today." For once, the younger witch looked stern. "You will stay there and do what she says, all right?" She narrowed her eyes at Morag, who had been subtly trying to swing her legs over the corner of the bed.

"I'm fine," Morag protested, rolling her eyes. "You know the Cruciatus doesn't generally leave lasting effects, unless the person is under it enough to go mad. And I think I'm proven that I'm sane, seeing as I'm stringing coherent sentences together."

"Stay."

"Fine." Morag lay back, adjusting the bed so that she was somewhat sitting up. "What happened, anyway? How did you get Katie and the others?"

"I Apparated back with the food, and I heard you screaming for help. I looked through the window and saw Nott put you under the curse, so I Apparated to the Ministry and told them to come quick. I had hoped that he would keep you alive for a few more minutes, so that I could get other people. I knew that if he had managed to subdue you, then I couldn't take him on my own."

"Aww." That was certainly one of the nicest things Morag had ever heard when it came to her magical ability. "You're so sweet."

"Thanks." The younger woman blushed bright pink. "Um, I'm so glad that you're all right...I didn't want to lose you...Merlin, I have no freaking idea how to say what I want to say." She looked nervous, but terribly sincere. "I wanted to tell you something yesterday at dinner. I wanted to cook you a special meal and confess this to you. I didn't plan anything this way, but I thought that you should know. Morag...these past few months with you, I've gotten to know you. We're close, and I wish I had known you sooner - but not while I was at Hogwarts, because I was a freak obsessed with Harry Potter." She laughed self-consciously, glancing down. "I just...I know it's too soon, only a couple of months after Terry's death and all, and I don't even know if you'll reciprocate, but Morag, I...I fancy you."

Morag was silent for a moment. She missed Terry; there were still moments where she cried for him, things that reminded her way too much of him. She wished he hadn't died, that he was still there. They would be planning their wedding if he had still been alive. But he wasn't, and those wishes were just a fantasy, since there was no way to bring him back. She had been in such a low, dark place after his death, throwing herself into work and refusing to think about anything. It was Romilda who had brought her out of that place. They were such close friends now, who knew each other well and weren't afraid to tease and joke and laugh. Romilda was bold, wild, crazy, and courageous. She was the opposite of Terry. But still, Morag couldn't deny how much she loved spending time with the other, and she certainly couldn't deny a bit of physical attraction.

"I'm sorry," Romilda said. "I shouldn't have said that, it's too soon...now I look like this idiot trying to get with a grieving woman, and I have no idea what possessed me to say that. I should have waited -"

Her next words, whatever they would have been, were cut off as Morag pushed herself off the bed and crossed the room, capturing Romilda's lips in a kiss. "There," she said simply. "Now, can I please leave St. Mungo's?"

"I'm pretty sure that Healer Jacobs would kill me."

"All right, all right." Morag pouted and threw herself back down onto the bed. "I'm a horrible patient, aren't I?"

"Yep. But it doesn't bother me." She laughed nervously. "Hell, in this particular moment, nothing about you bothers me." She was still blushing slightly, and Morag grinned. Romilda was the light at the end of the tunnel, the person who had pulled her out of her work-obsessed, slightly depressed state. She knew that nothing was perfect, but in that moment, it really didn't bother her. They'd figure out things later. Because right now, they were alone, and it was enough just to be together.

* * *

**I had such fun writing this...I'm kind of proud of this, now. I love this pairing - it's one that I came up with, and I absolutely adore it. If you're interested, I have another oneshot for them (Love In Spite of Logic). Yep, shameless plugging, that's me. Anyway, I hope you loved reading this as much as I loved writing this. Oh, and please review, especially if you favorite!**

**This is a oneshot and will not be continued.**


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